


You're Here, There's Nothing I Fear

by Snorp_Lord



Series: We Have Nothing to Lose and a World to See [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Happy Birthday Akabeans!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snorp_Lord/pseuds/Snorp_Lord
Summary: Titanic RK1700 AU by an author who can't write summaries, as a gift for the lovely Akabeans.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: We Have Nothing to Lose and a World to See [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137977
Kudos: 13





	You're Here, There's Nothing I Fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silverpaintedwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverpaintedwings/gifts).



There was some big fuss up on the deck. Connor could hear as much even from the kitchen. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of people hurrying around up there, and hurried conversations that went by in snippets. He tried to dismiss it, looking back down into his glass. Just water of course- he wouldn’t drink right before the ship set off, especially not after having seen other stewards fired for the smell on their breath before. But it was hard to dismiss his curiosity when it seemed like the entire staff were in some kind of quiet frenzy over something. 

Eventually, it got the best of him. He looked up and cautiously asked one of the chefs: “If you don’t mind my asking...what’s gotten into everyone? Seems like they’re all running around like headless chickens.”

“Nobody told you, eh? There’s a VIP coming on board. Some big Brit ponce. Lord  _ Stern _ , apparently. He’s heading home from Paris or something, so we’ve all got to be on best behaviour. Else maybe King George himself’ll come give us a bollocking!” 

“I’ll know him when I see him, right? I don’t want to accidentally spill red wine on a lord…”

“You’ll know from all the posh accents around him. Everyone sipping tea in some fancy lacy suits and dresses or something.” The chef sneered. “I’d love to see one of those come work down here. Probably ruin their fancy gloves on something or other.”

“You’re a pastry chef, Gavin. You’re hardly a long-suffering peasant boy.”

“I reserve my right to hate a fancy ponce in a suit. They’re all insufferable, the lot of them. If I had that much money to throw around, I wouldn’t buy some stuffy house in the country. Hell, I wouldn’t live in England at all. They all look smug.” He noticed Connor’s less-than-pleased glare and held up a hand in surrender. “Besides you, Con. Besides you. Now if you don’t mind, much as I’m loving this, I’ve got about a half dozen more of these to get finished, so…”

“Yes, yes, I know. Just trying to avoid having to go up on deck. Stewards are all supposed to have a meeting with the boss before we actually let any passengers on. And you know what he’s going to be like if we have a VIP.”

Gavin shook his head, not even  _ trying  _ to hide the smirk. “That’s why the smart ones all work down here. The view’s shit, but at least there’s no passengers.”

* * *

  
  


As it turned out, the meeting was rather unremarkable. The worst of it was half his coworkers practically fainting at the thought of meeting (and possibly being romanced by) some mysterious man with a title. Personally, Connor wasn’t getting his hopes up. If they did run across the VIP, they’d be serving him a glass of wine none of them could afford, and he’d probably tip horribly and forget all about them the moment he walked away from the table. Which wasn’t pessimistic- just realistic. 

“Battle stations then. Let’s get the rush over with,” he mumbled to himself, making his way behind the bar for a solid hour or so of all the most irritating cocktails as passengers finally started to make their way on board. “...And nobody bothered to bring up any Pinot Grigio. Of course. Watch the bar a moment, I’ll be right back. You know how they get with their rosé sometimes.”

Passengers were already filing in. Some straight to their cabins, some along the deck and straight to the bar. He made way for anyone who shambled past in their Sunday best. That was what they expected of a steward; be quiet, step out of the way, occasionally bring over something to drink. It was like what he imagined taking care of a pet might be like. Rarely would it even comprehend that you were a complex human being who had their own complex life. Your function was to bring drinks. 

Another passenger was walking towards him, hurried without looking hurried, and the walk was so familiar Connor almost assumed he was another steward. But the stewards wore black, and this person was dressed almost entirely in white. He continued forwards. “Excuse me, sir,” he said quietly, intending to step smoothly to the side.

The carpet caught his shoe.

Connor swore under his breath.

...He didn’t hit the floor.

There was an arm supporting his weight, holding his waist up against something warm. Finally, he looked up, trying to figure out what was going on.

What stood out most were the eyes. Pale blue eyes, like the sky on a good sailing day. So bright. Something about them made Connor feel so...strangely helpless. A pinned butterfly. Then it dawned on him fully, why he hadn’t fallen. He’d been caught. By the stranger. “...Thank...Thank you, sir. Sorry about that- misstep.”

He seemed to snap out of whatever moment he’d been caught in. “Of course. No worry. As long as you aren’t hurt.” Classy accent. British accent? Yes, British. 

Expensive white suit, linen maybe, and pale as a vampire. Dark hair that had been carefully combed back, only for the wind up on the deck to ruin it after. He had to be someone important…It was like the answer was hovering at the tip of his tongue. Not that Connor rubbed elbows with the wealthy much, but it felt so familiar. Like the answer was screaming at him. A wealthy Brit who’d caught him like they were dancing…

Stern.  _ Lord Stern _ . The VIP.

But as soon as he had finally put it all together, Stern was already setting him back on his feet. Connor tried not to look too disappointed. A few more seconds would have given him time to really study, maybe even figure out if he was right. Instead, he already seemed to be in a hurry to leave, glancing back the way he’d come at the sound of footsteps. “Excuse me. I have to leave before I’m caught having too much fun. Please be careful in future,” he teased. “I won’t be there to catch you every time.”

And then he was gone. Like he’d never been there at all. Just disappeared around a corner and vanished. Connor stood alone in stunned silence for a moment or two. Only when he turned to follow did he finally hear the footsteps draw closer.

Two men hurried up to him. Butlers, from the look of them, or personal assistants. Dressed similar to the stewards, but portly and proper in the way no underpaid waiter was. One of them even had a silver pocket watch dangling on a chain. He wouldn’t be surprised if the thing ended up stolen before they reached the next port. “Ah-! Excuse us-! Steward! Wait a moment! We’re looking for our employer, and it’s urgent. Black hair, white suit. We believe he came this way, did you see him?”

“...No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anyone like that.” He did owe the man a favour, after all.

The two of them frowned in unison. Connor had to consciously bite back a giggle as one butler’s bushy mustache entirely consumed his mouth in the process. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him? He’s quite unmistakable. Doesn’t exactly fit in with the...common rabble.”

“There’s a lot of ‘common rabble’ on the ship, sirs. Easy to blend in. Big crowds on deck. If he’s trying to get away, he’d probably be up there.”

They didn’t even bother thanking him. Just nodded quickly to each other and hurried past him towards the stairs. Connor chuckled softly and shook his head. “And now we’re even, rich boy.”

* * *

After that initial meeting, Connor found himself actively looking for Stern, and having about as much success as the butlers. It was hard to search the ship when he was almost always working too. Most of his time was spent in the kitchens or at the bar, and he had a sneaking suspicion anyone that important wouldn’t be wandering up to the public bar up on deck. Champagne room service seemed more likely.

Ironic, then, that that was what brought him to Lord Stern again. 

His hand still hovered over the door, curled into a loose fist as he took in Lord Stern’s more relaxed appearance. The loose curls laying over his forehead. The black shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar open at the top. The mild surprise on his face, probably mirroring Connor’s own. 

It took him a full five seconds to snap out of his stupor. Fumbling with the card, Connor finally looked away from Stern’s face and down at the neatly-written note. “I have a bottle of um...champagne here.” No chance in hell he was trying to pronounce that name. “For Lord Stern. Hopefully I’m in the right place?” 

“Of course. Of course, come right in. You can set it on the table there.” Stern moved out of the doorway, holding the door open so Connor could focus on getting the champagne inside in one piece. “I meant to let them know not to bother. Seems I’ve been stood up, but at least I don’t have to listen to the Earl’s thrilling duck hunting stories again,” he joked. “I’m sure I can find someone to drink it.”

“I could take it back. If you want.” Technically, he couldn’t. Room service rules were clear- once it had gone to the room, it was already money in someone else’s pocket, and money  _ out  _ of his if he did bring it back now the cork had already been popped. 

“No, no, that’s fine. Actually...if you want, perhaps you could help me drink it? I’ve been meaning to thank you for redirecting the help.”   
  
Was he hearing that right? In spite of himself, Connor felt color flood into his cheeks. “Lord Stern, you caught me before I could fall. It was the least I could do.” 

“You don’t owe me for that. It’s what any decent man would do.”   
  
“You’d be surprised.” Connor glanced back at the champagne, feeling his resolve to leave fray like worn fabric the longer he stood there. “And even if it was, it was still sweet of you, Lord Stern.”   
  
“Niles is fine. In private, at least.” Both stood in silence for just a moment. Then Lord Stern-  _ Niles _ , he corrected himself- moved closer, pouring them each a small glass. “Have one with me. It would be a waste to let it go flat, especially with how poor the crop has been this year.”   
  
“I’m working,” Connor mumbled. Despite that being true, and a very good reason not to sit and drink something he could never afford with an (admittedly quite attractive) passenger, he knew it was the furthest thing from his mind right now. “Or I should be, at least.”

“Then you’re just doing as you’ve been requested by a passenger. If anyone does care to comment, you can explain you were helping me with something.” Niles winked. 

And, at the end of the day, weren’t they supposed to listen to the guests? It wouldn’t do to walk away from the VIP, would it? Nobody could blame him for just...doing as he was asked. It was practically the point of being a steward.

“Well, since you’ve asked…” Connor took one of the champagne flutes from the table, his white glove quickly soaked through by the perspiration sitting on the glass. Suddenly, he was rather thankful he’d picked things up from their more refined guests, seeing how smoothly Niles took his own glass and raised it for a small sip. 

“Bolder than the usual. But with sweeter notes too. It sits well, I’d say.” 

Maybe he wasn’t just talking about the champagne anymore. Thankfully, Niles didn’t seem too upset by his silence. “...I’m not much of an expert on wines. I remember what we’re supposed to say if a customer asks us when they order it, but that might as well be a marketing blurb.”

Niles chuckled. “Surely the fastest way to teach people about the wines is just to let the staff taste them?”

“God no. For one, Fowler would never give away stock. Besides, they burn through staff so fast it’d be a waste. Second, there’s about a hundred of us. Like ants crawling about, which is probably how the boss sees us.” Huh. Usually he’d be a little more careful with his words. Perhaps the alcohol was already loosening his tongue. A glance down showed it wasn’t even half gone yet, even with his own long drain on the glass. Time to slow down. 

Connor reached over to set the glass on a coaster. If he left a ring on the wood table...that thing was older than him. Older than Fowler, maybe. Light wood, like most of the other furniture. Even though this was the most expensive cabin- usually reserved for actors or people of  _ questionable  _ occupation- the cabinets and wardrobe looked identical to the ones in his own cabin. Good way to shave costs while charging extortionate amounts. 

It was Niles who next broke the silence. “Perhaps you could...try more wines with me, then. If your job won’t allow it, and you’re always working…” His own champagne glass was nearly empty. “You don’t deserve to be lied to. You...intrigue me. I don’t even know your name, but you’re fascinating. Especially since you covered for me. I’d like to talk to you. At least learn your name, for one.”

“Oh. My name is Connor Anderson. Since I know your full name, it seems fair to tell you mine.”

There was no spoken response, but he saw the way Niles’ face softened, even with the weak light of sunset. No point in denying it; he found the other man at least a little attractive. 

And perhaps, judging by the way he was smiling, the feeling was mutual.

* * *

They were barely a day away from the port at Southampton when Connor finally decided it was time to just say something. If he was out of line, then Niles could easily dismiss it, and they would never have to see each other again once the ship docked.

Just thinking of that possibility made his heart twist strangely.

Surely not. Niles had invited him for champagne another two times after their initial meeting, asked Connor to use his first name, and then…

...then there was the kiss on the deck.

Connor ghosted his fingertips over his lips as he leaned over the railing on deck. They still tingled slightly, reminding him of the way Niles had pressed against him. 

It was sunset, again, and Connor was starting to worry he might associate the evening with all of the sappy romantic feelings that Niles gave him. His smile...the way it would start small, almost shy, but it could be coaxed out by the right joke, or an exceptionally cheesy wink…

Gavin was the one to interrupt his frustratingly fond thoughts. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, and he offered one to Connor before joining him against the railing. “Penny for your thoughts? If I had one, anyway, after those fuckers in the kitchen pulled five aces out of their asses. I get half of ‘em can’t even count, but I can’t be the asshole that tells them they’re cheating. Probably throw me overboard.” 

No response. Gavin’s smirk dropped just a little. “Con. Hey. What’s wrong with you? You’ve got a face on.”

“I always have my face on,” Connor grumbled, accepting the offered lighter for just a moment.

“Not like that, beanpole. You know what I mean. Like you just watched your puppy fall off the deck or something. Moody. Even more than usual.”

“...You won’t judge me? I know it’s going to sound…” Really, there weren’t even words. Not only was Niles a man, but a Lord _. _ Granted, it was less of an issue when they were on the ship, and he knew Gavin himself had at least considered it. But still. What happened on the ship didn’t always  _ stay _ on the ship. “You remember the VIP? The British guy. I... _ fuck _ . I think me and him might be something. I don’t know what. I still don’t know what. We kissed, after my shift last night, but I haven’t even seen him since, so maybe it was a bad idea.”

Gavin said nothing for a long time. Between the sound of the waves and the low thrum of human activity still buzzing about behind them, it wasn’t silent, but it may as well have been. Either way he was just as tense.

“So what are you asking me for?”

“I thought you’d know something. Or tell me to get over myself.”

“You  _ want _ me to tell you to ‘get over yourself’?”

“No! No, of course I don’t- Maybe. I really don’t know, okay Gav? This doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Connor sighed softly, taking a long drag to avoid speaking for just a few more moments. “He’s important. Some bigshot. The champagne I was bringing him is the stuff Fowler keeps locked up- literally!” His fingers dragged through his hair slowly. “I can’t do anything like that.”

“So you think he’s gonna be pissed because you can’t buy him fancy shit? You think that’s why he’s into you, for the money? No offence, but you’re a fancy waiter, Con. And not even that fancy.” After another long drag, Gavin flicked his cigarette into the water below. “I gotta get back to prep. Before they start raiding the buffets again and Fowler’s on our asses about not bein’ ready. ‘Sides, you might wanna turn around. Got your boyfriend givin’ you puppy eyes back there. Go tell him to stop simperin’ so damn loud.”

He didn’t even have the right to correct those words. When he turned to look, he could see that look on Niles’ face, one he’d caught on his own more times than he was really comfortable with after having only known the man a few days. 

But even as he tried to look blasé, he could feel that same twisting in his chest when he looked at Niles. The aching fondness and the burning curiosity. Something about Niles Stern had, at the very least, captured his attention. Admitting any more than that would be foolish this early. 

“You don’t mind if I join you?”

“If you don’t mind the smoke,” Connor replied, nodding over at Gavin’s recently-vacated spot. “I’d rather you stand close. It’s not the sort of talk you want anyone eavesdropping on. Especially not those penguins that waddle after you wherever you go.”

“I have them looking for a specific book in the library. One that’s in my desk as we speak.” There was that smile again, pulled up slightly more on one side to make the closest thing to a smirk Niles was capable of. 

_ God,  _ he really did need to get over himself.

Connor raised the cigarette to his lips and found it burnt away to almost nothing. Of course. He’d been staring at Niles long enough the damn cheap thing had happily smouldered into nothingness and nearly burned his hand in the process. Frustrated, he flicked it off into the water just like Gavin’s, and leaned back on the railings, watching pink and golden streaks race across the sky as the ship passed under them, all racing towards the sun on the horizon. Which, right now, would be...behind Niles. 

He tilted his head towards the taller man, and felt his heart stutter, killing the words trapped in his throat. Light shone around him like a full body halo, and he was smiling  _ again,  _ dammit. The sight made it so hard to be worried. 

This smile...Connor was the only one who saw it. When they passed in the halls or on the deck, they left it at just a knowing glint in their eyes. Only when the doors to Niles’ cabin shut did he get to see that look. Saved just for him, like some precious gift that Niles was terrified to share but ached to give.

“Niles. I won’t beat around the bush. I’m fairly sure you aren’t inviting any of the other staff to your room, much less for champagne and sunset rendezvous. And after what happened last night, I’m fairly certain you aren’t against…” Instead of finishing, he merely waved a hand at himself. “So I was going to suggest-”

“I wanted you to come with me.”

_ Oh.  _ Okay, that wasn’t in the script. Connor had planned the whole thing, about as carefully as he ever planned things, and had expected Niles to be the earnest, but ultimately shy and clueless rich boy he’d shown himself to be. And that was fine, as long as he was saying things Connor was prepared for him to say. Perhaps, for once, being overly blunt was an asset.

Niles must have sensed his surprise. “I know it sounds odd. For all I know you haven’t even been to England, and this all must seem a bit daft- I know it does to me, and I’m the one who came up with it, b-but…” He stopped. Forced himself to calm down. Connor recognised those steady, measured breaths. “...I really do want you to come with me. Perhaps learn more about the place, and get off this ship for just a while? Everything can be taken care of, there’s plenty of room in the house, and I already sent a letter ahead to my grandmother. She lives in the house too, she deserves to know if we might be having guests-”

The last time they would have been able to post mail was in the French port, a week ago. Niles had been planning for at least that long. Maybe more.

“-Your own room, of course, for propriety if nothing else. Food, travel, entertainment, it’s all easily taken care of.”

So the only thing left to worry about was asking Connor himself. And Niles had put it off until the day before they drew into port.

They really were alike.

Connor turned and offered his hand. “Alright, Lord Stern,” he teased, making sure to put extra emphasis on the title just for the way Niles always rolled his eyes. “I suppose I’m overdue to visit home. Make it a good one.”

Niles intertwined their fingers. “I intend to.”

  
  



End file.
